Prophet

Chapter 2: Strangers

The fire crackles around my body. I try to sit up, but an unknown force prevents me from escaping. I can feel the heat surrounding me. A child's voice calls out for me," Crystal help." I can hear the child crying, begging for their life. My heart squeezes in my chest. What could I do? I'm trapped beyond my control. Suddenly the child's almost silent plea escalates into unbearable screams. In the same moment, my bonds dissipate and I can move again.   Standing up, I wrap my arm around my face for protection and follow the child's voice.  Looking down the long fiery hallway, I turn into the closest doorway that the child's screams seem to echo from. Turning into the room, I notice that the flames, somehow, never reached this part of the house. Yet, the child lies on the floor covered in char. 

Tears fill my eyes as I roll her fragile body over to check if she's breathing. Choking on my own sob, I plead to her," No. Please do not die on me." Her ash-ridden body seems to be so peaceful and lifeless, but suddenly her eyes spring open. Those eyes. The eyes I know so well, The eyes that I could never forget even if I tried. My eyes.  Her hazel, my hazel orbs, look back at me with such depth. Such innocence. Then suddenly recognition covers my younger self's face and her face reflects a deadly look. A look that only I can understand. As if she knows my deepest secrets, fears, or lost ambitions. She knows me because she is me. 

With the voice of a child, that should not know of the harsh natures of this world, she speaks with as much serious emotion as that which is displayed on her soft features. "You!", She accuses. "You did this to them. You killed them all. It's all your fault."

In seconds, the burning house is gone and I am once again in my own bed.  Sweat drizzles down my forehead as if I were really in that place. As if it weren't really just a dream. "It was just a dream." Though my words seem reasonable, they feel like a lie. But how could they be? 

As I step out of the shower, warm steam covers every inch of my small bathroom. I wipe the condensation from my even smaller wall mirror. Looking back at me are the same eyes that have always haunted me. As long as I could remember. Shaking my head, I try to rid myself of those dreadful memories. I'm not exactly sure how I even came home. Did I go out or did  I come home after work. Work, I don't even remember leaving work. The last thing I remember from yesterday was being in the kitchen with ... Eric. He came see me. I slam my fist on my, off-white, eggshell counter. He must have done something. There is something different about that guy. Something not right. 

Determined, I marched out of my bathroom and into my bedroom to change. It's about time I paid him a visit. This time, I'll be prepared and he won't manipulate the way he does. 

"Manipulate? Nice to see you think so little of me." I almost jump out of my skin hearing the masculine voice. Turning around, I grab my, small, vintage iron lamp off my nightstand. 

I clutch my towel to myself looking for the owner of the voice. "Who said that?" 

The voice chuckles. No doubt finding my reaction amusing. "I think you know who this is."

I drop my arms from their protective positions. "Eric?"

He teases," See now was that so hard?"

Feeling annoyed with his casual conversation, I cut him off. "Where are you and why can I hear you in my head?"

There's a still silence. "I'm in your living room and as to why you can hear me..." He pauses. "I will explain that in due time."

"But."

This time, he cuts me off. "No buts. Now unless you'd like me to see you half naked..." I could hear the stupid smirk in his voice. "I'd suggest you change Ms. Crystal." I don't know what it is, but something about the way he said my name just nudges at something deep inside me. Shaking off my strange feelings, I begin to dress. I wonder what he has to say?